


Before the Storm

by Vaerien



Series: Tales of the Jarsberg [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15577728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaerien/pseuds/Vaerien
Summary: The Known World is writ with various trials and perils, with each event designed to shape one's character, their morals, their ideals, and their life's destiny. Four wildly different characters are brought together through unseen circumstances and end up to form one of the most dangerous groups the Known World has ever seen.Written as a prologue to a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, featuring characters that the players will be RPing as. Tags will be updated as the story progresses.





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> PoV/narrative style is similar to that of Game of Thrones - each chapter focuses on a different character. This is mainly directed towards a certain group of people, so apologies if the story and the setting may seem a bit confusing at first.
> 
> Regardless, thanks for checking this out, and I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> This one goes out to my OG D&D crew: The Rain, StarDust, Frogsmile, and Maple Taffy.

_”Aside from the nation’s beautiful and historically rich capital, Ragh Nar Lia, there is nothing else of note to see in Voorhis. The country’s second largest city, Rivii, is home to the largest population of beggars in all of the Known World, with the rest of the settlements being poor or deserted. What’s more is that the country bears an extreme hatred towards nonhumans, despite the fact that it owes its success to elves.”_

\- Kristoffer Worth, _Around the Known World in Eighty Days_

*******

**Rivii, Voorhis**

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. She had searched all the cabinets in the house and checked under the floorboards more times than she’d cared to admit. Despite all, her search proved to be fruitless – there was not a valuable in sight. Everything she saw and inspected seemed to be a cheap knockoff of something that was more costly, much to her dismay.

Valeria cursed and scanned the dining room once more, keeping an eye out for any spot that she’d neglected to search. If she failed to find anything of value, it would be the first time that she left a house empty-handed. Whether she chose to visit a peasant’s house or a nobleman’s estate, it didn’t matter; she would always leave the house bearing expensive objects. Jewellery, plates, cups, even a family’s golden urn – if the item was valuable, Valeria took it, no matter the consequences.

 _Gods forbid I return from the hunt empty-handed,_ she thought. She picked up a silver-coloured teapot and examined it, frowning. It only took a single glance for her to know that the teapot was not made out of silver or any other notable material.

“Cheap piece of shit,” she muttered, tossing it aside. With a high-pitched, tinny noise, it clattered to the floor. As if trying to prove a point, Valeria kicked it aside and huffed.

_What am I supposed to tell Eryck?_

She shook her head and sighed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t come up with an excuse that would please him. 

In a last attempt to uncover any hidden gems, she brushed everything off the shelves, the contents clattering to the floor. She knelt down and started digging through the pile, tossing aside the items that she regarded as worthless. Which, much to her dismay, applied to the entire pile. Everything that seemed to be valuable was like the silver-coloured teapot: painted to increase its low worth.

As Valeria tossed a pickle jar aside, she heard the faint click of a door opening, followed by quiet footsteps. She twitched and slowly stepped away from the mess, her eyes trained on the source of the noise. There was no doubt that the voices were that of the homeowners.

“So, my pa’s comin’ from Celtigar tomorrow,” a male voice rang out. The homeowners shuffled into the house and shut the door behind him. Valeria scrambled under the dining table, her gaze still focused on the direction of the voices. “He’s got some pilgrimage business in the Isles. Says he’s stoppin’ here for a few days ‘fore he gets on some boat.”

“We’ve no boats in Rivii.” A female voice scoffed. “Tell your pa to stop somewhere else, I’m not in the mood for meeting religious fanatics. ‘Specially those who come from Celtigar.”

The man sighed. “Agnes, he’s not one of _those_ people. He’s very kind and rational, you’ll see.” He paused. “Yer gonna love him.”

“Oh really?” Agnes replied, raising her voice. “He’s _rational,_ you say? So why is it that he writes us every month, telling us to get rid of our most expensive stuff and replace ‘em with somethings cheaper?”

Valeria sighed and silently cursed the man’s father for making her expedition more difficult than it needed to be.

The man chose not to reply, instead walking further into the house. Valeria caught a glimpse of the man’s feet and lower legs. Despite the fact that he was forced to throw away his most prized belongings, he was well dressed. Valeria would’ve guessed that the man was part of the middle class.

“Ehh, Agnes… truth be told, he does that to make up for the fact that you weren’t a virgin when we wedded.”

It took all of Valeria’s might to not burst out laughing.

“Oh, the son of a whore,” Agnes hissed. She marched towards the dining room and shoved her husband aside. “When he gets here, I’ll show him a piece of my-”

She gasped and came to an abrupt halt, directly in front of Valeria’s hiding place. There was no doubt that she noticed the mess strewn about the room. Her husband, noticing the pause in her statement, chuckled.

“A piece of your _what,_ dear? Something I should know about?”

Agnes turned around and pulled her husband closer to the cluttered dining room. Hoping that her body was blocking the man’s gaze, she inched further away from the couple and pulled up her hood. She scanned the room for an escape route.

Like her search for valuables, her search for an escape route proved fruitless. There was a window directly behind her, however there were no means of opening it without using excessive force.

Valeria sighed and prepared to exit the table, her eyes trained on the direction of the front door. She’d have to get out using the conventional method – a method that she loathed using. She would’ve preferred to escape using a window, or even the way she used to enter, however it would draw more attention than needed.

“No, you fool. Someone’s _robbed_ us. Get the City Guards, get Lord Staunton, whoever! We need to catch that robber!”

Valeria took a deep breath and exited her hiding place, trying her best to still her shaking hands. The couple looked at her in equal parts amazement and disgust.

The man grabbed a remnant of the pickle jar and slowly approached her, pointing a sharp end towards her. “Who are you, child, and how did you get in? What business do you have here?” Agnes simply looked at Valeria, her jaw wide open.

Valeria shrugged. “Nothing important,” she responded, her eyes fixed on the man.

“You’re one piss poor liar, and an even worse burglar,” the man replied. He walked up to Valeria and held the glass shard to her throat. Valeria noted that his hand was trembling and smirked. She knew that he wouldn’t harm her. He couldn’t.

“Know what they do to filthy scum like you, girl?” Agnes growled, slowly backing away from the scene. “They throw them into the city dungeon. And hang them from the gallows. There’s no place in this world for people like you.”

Valeria shrugged. “Maybe not. And that, my friends, is why I must make my own.”

She stomped on the man’s foot and kicked him in the stomach. He dropped to his knees and groaned in pain, clutching his stomach. Valeria shot a glance towards Agnes and snorted when she noticed that she made no move to defend her husband.

_Good. They’re afraid. I like that._

 “Good day to you, m’lord, m’lady,” she mocked, bowing in front of the pair. All she got in response was stunned silence from the woman and muffled groans from the man. “I hope that we never meet again, for both your sake and mine.”

She walked towards the front of the door and opened it, looking behind her for the last time.

“’Cause next time you try something like that, I’ll kill you.”

She left the house behind and strode out into the broad daylight and into the Rivii crowds, trying her best to blend in with the surrounding crowd. Relaying the day’s events in her head, she blinked back tears. It wasn’t because she was threatened – hell, she’s been caught and threatened many times before – but because of something else entirely.

_What am I going to tell Eryck?_

***

It was sunset when she walked into the musty alleyway that housed the shack she called home. She’d wager that it was the nastiest place in all of Rivii – Voorhis, even. The place constantly reeked of various bodily fluids, and housed its share of human and non-human scum alike. Sadly, not everyone got along. She recalled numerous days when she’d arrived from her expeditions, only to find that someone had decided to beat up someone else, or even worse, murder someone over something trivial.

The rest of Rivii referred to the alleyway as The Garden, a name that was no doubt meant to mock its less-than-ideal conditions. Valeria liked to refer to it as the Shithole, and dubbed its inhabitants the Shitters.

“Valeria! Val! Hey! What’d you bring?” The high-pitched sound of Eryck’s voice rang out, snapping Valeria out of her daydream.

She caught sight of him running towards her, his arms outstretched as if to hug her. Sure enough, he crashed into her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, holding her close.

“Missed you tons,” he murmured. He looked up at her and grinned. “You were gone a really long time!”

Valeria studied his face and her stomach twisted into a knot. There was a fresh bruise on his left cheek, one that she swore wasn’t present when she left in the morning. Her feelings of nervousness were soon replaced by pure rage, followed by silent curses towards the person who hit him.

“You’re hurt,” she said, lightly brushing her thumb over the bruise.

Eryck pulled away from the hug, his left hand rising to feel the bruise. “Mummy’s got a strange man in the house again,” he said, his voice immediately going soft. “He did this before pulling me out of the house.”

Valeria balled her hands into fists and grit her teeth, shooting her gaze towards the small, dilapidated shack that served as the siblings’ sleeping area. Her mother was whoring herself out again, no doubt, and she suspected that it wasn’t for gold.

“She doing it for the spoiled sugar again?” she asked, kneeling down to match Eryck’s eye level. She dared not to call it moon dust to his face. Having only seen eight winters, she feared that he was far too young to deal with yet another harsh reality of their situation.

“You mean happiness?” he replied, raising an eyebrow in questioning. “That’s what she called it this morning.”

Valeria shut her eyes and said nothing in response. She felt like she was disintegrating from the inside. Once again, she had failed to protect her brother’s innocence – or what was left of it, anyways.

Eryck noticed her discomfort and hopped around her, poking her repeatedly. “So, did you bring anything? Anything at all?”

Valeria shook her head and tried her best to look apologetic. “Sorry, Eryck. There was nothing. The house I visited belonged to some religious nuts who threw away their valuables every month.”

He cast his gaze downwards and tried to hide his disappointment. “Oh. I’m hungry, though. Real hungry. Mom hasn’t gotten food today. And there was none left in the house when I left.”

“I-I can try and go to the Market Square to get food,” Valeria stammered. She looked up at the fading sun and frowned. “See if I can get back before dark.”

“Nuh-uh, not happening,” Eryck said. He grabbed Valeria and led her towards the front of the tiny shack. “You can’t leave now, not when you’ve just got back. Besides, I have something to show you!”

Valeria came to a halt and pulled him back. “We can’t go in there,” she hissed. “Mum’s getting her happiness, remember?”

“I’m not going inside,” Eryck whined. He ran up to the door and knelt down to pick something up. He examined it thoroughly and ran back to Valeria, waving his hands around wildly. Both of his hands seemed to clutch at something, leaving Valeria to wonder what on earth could be so important to him.

“Look, Val,” he beamed. In one hand was a small wooden figurine of a knight, in the other, a handful of grass. The figurine was on the verge of falling apart; the wood was soaking wet and gave off a strong stench. But, despite its imperfections, Eryck was showing it off as if it were an expensive sword.

“I went out to the Market Square and saw that someone dropped it,” he explained, waving the knight around. “He’s a good knight.” He repeatedly smacked the knight against the handful of grass, making sounds that Valeria assumed were his best impressions of knights at battle.

“What’s he doing?” Valeria chuckled, watching the epic feud between the knight and grass.

Eryck grinned and then raised the knight in the air. “Killing monsters,” he said, attempting to deepen his voice as much as possible. Valeria chuckled. For a moment, she forgot about today’s failed robbery, and about the fact that her mother prioritized her drug habit over feeding her son.

For a moment, everything was alright.

“He got a name? Every good monster-slaying knight needs to have a name.” Eryck stopped the battle for a moment and looked up, thinking about a suitable name for a knight.

“Sir Nightbreeze,” he exclaimed, waving the knight in the air. He smacked the knight against the grass once again. This time around, he threw the grass on the floor and pumped his fist in the air, cheering. “”’Night’ because, you know, he’s a knight. And he slays monsters at night, cause that’s just what knights do! And ‘breeze’, because, uh, he’s quick?”

Valeria chuckled and shrugged, deciding not to disprove his childish logic. “That’s fair.”

Eryck gazed at the figurine, and back at Valeria. “You know, Val, he reminds me of you.”

“That so? Why, do I look like a wooden knight?”

He shook his head. “No. Knights are courageous and brave, and they do all the good stuff, ‘cause that’s what knights do, right?”

Valeria nodded.

“And, I dunno, you’re the same. You do all this stuff when you don’t have to, you know? You’re doing something good, ‘cause then I can eat, and then we can be happy, ‘cause Mummy saves all the happiness to herself, y’know?”

Eryck pulled Valeria into a hug once again. It was noticeably tighter than the hug he greeted her with.

“I love you, Valeria,” he sighed. “Sometimes I wish you were my mummy instead of her.”

Valeria held him closer and gave a sad smile, trying her best not to cry.

“I love you too, Eryck. I love you too.”


End file.
